Ford's Poetic Abilities
by Minor God
Summary: A love poem to Arthur from Ford. He could give the Vogons a run for their money! Finished!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, he's dead, I'm so sad! But, he owns them for another 46 years.

A/N: This is a poem for Arthur from Ford, in the style of a Vogon.

Sometimes I look at you and feel like I've been punched in the stomach. Oh! Lomach? Stomach!

Every now and then, you look really sad.

That's really bad.

Once your two – headed rival said that you were not homosexual at all, and I cried. Oh, cried? Pied!

But, you make me feel as though I'm flying. Flying is hard, so I know that I must really love you. Oh! You! No – one else. Not even him.

Your skin is pale and delicate (flericate) but your hair is either brown or black. Browack?

When you move your lips, you make me feel sick, but in a nice way. I know you'd be sad to think that you'd made anyone sick in a sick way. But your lips look so soft that I want to lick them and then shag you.

Oftentimes, you make me think that being on the Earth was really good.

I think you have a beautiful body, but you never seem to notice. You never wear tight clothes or walk sexily. I wish you would. Oh, mish! Oh, wish?

Please please say you love me!


	2. 2: Another poem from Ford

NytheStampede: Aww! I love you, too! Hope you enjoy this one.

Ashirum: Thank you! I hope you like this one as much!

TomikotheMuse: 'Oh dear goddess...Arthur-RSAHSDLFJS.' What does that mean? Thanks though, where would we be without cuteness? shudders

Anakin McFly: O.o to you too.

Whatevergirl: Aw, thanks!

Vogon Jeltz: I salute you, sir! I must admit that your work has been such an inspiration to me!

Like-cairo: Thank you! Wow, thanks so much! You have driven me on with this, so I hope you enjoy it!

A/N: WOW! I thought no – one looked in H2G2 anymore! YAY! Thank you so much for the interest and I've written another one, with more on the way. This is kind of bittersweet, in its own way, because Ford sent Arthur the letter and he… OK, I'll let you read it.

Did you get the last one of my poems? I assure you that it was all true. Flue. But true.

Please please please love me. Please. Love me like you love cheese. Or even more so would be nice. Oh, thrice!

That's how many times I fantasised about making love to you over breakfast, by the way.

You aren't looking at me. Or are you looking at me inside?

Oh, implied! Inside…

Your arms are wrapped (lapped) around your body. Probably because you're afraid. A frayed!

A frayed what?

A frayed love – mine for you!

Honestly, you are really beautiful. Lutiful? Dutiful!

Your eyes are like a pond – two ponds, that is – on Brontitore, when it became infected with a plant – killing virus and there were no stupid plants in ponds. Just deep blue. Then the fish died.

Fish are best fried. Not pied.

Why didn't you answer my poem?

Don't you love me, flohemm? Oh!

Why not? Is it because I'm not as pretty as you? No, it wouldn't be that, would it?

Wood it.

Please speak to me, Arthur. Speak, don't freak. You're not a freak. Leak?

Ravenous bugblatter beasts of Traal are green,

Dirt is brown.

Say you love me, or I'll drown.

A/N: How soon should Arthur reply? Should there be more from Ford first? Please tell!


	3. And another

MicroChips: Thanks! I shall indeed watch the movie.

Scap: Hello! Thank you! Thank you so much! WOW! It DOES rhyme; you are GIFTED at this!

A/N: And still, poor Ford's love poems go unanswered! He reads Shakespeare for some ideas.

I love you.

You don't love me, I think. I found silverfish in the kitchen sink.

I was watching your arms at dinner. Oh, frinner!

I want to wrap them around me like a purple coat. I love you so much that I wouldn't mind if it was purple.

But your arms are really white.

And when I saw them, I got a fright.

Because they really are white.

If I took you to a planet with a beach, would you sunbathe with me?

Sunbathe! Beach, oh, peach! Apple? No!

But still, thine lips are so, so red! I said they be not green.

Whenever I hear your voice I want to cry. Just because it's lovely. I think about it at night, wishing that it was talking to me. Not to Marvin. Stupid bloody flarvin.

I wouldn't mind if it was just talking about the weather, your voice feels like love making. All warm and fluttery and nice.

Mice.

Thrice.

If you times that by eleven, then add 2, that's how many times I have thought of you (today).

I would rob a bank for you. If I did, would you buy some tight clothes?

I'd wrestle with an alturian mega cow for you!

You've made me really sad. And you are really sad.

So that's really really bad.

If we made love, we would both be happier. Happyyyyyyy!

Today, I asked how you were feeling and you said fine. But thou did not ask me how I was. I was very sad. Thou! Oh, thou! Or thine?

I love thee. My love for thee is really strong. So strong, it could kill things.

I'll prove it to thee!


	4. And another one

Scap: Haha! You'll see… I am really pleased you're enjoying the poems!

Tomiko the muse: Aaahhh. That's OK, then, but you should clean it up before it damages your computer. Thank you, though!

I am sorry that my token of love made you scream. And I am sorry that Zaphod was mean (about it).

I hope your cabin can be cleaned.

Trillian says that vinegar is good.

For blood.

My love for you is as fresh a cucumber.

A cucumber which is fresh.

And not at all meshed.

When I heard you screaming, my blood ran cold.

Icy. Which was not nicey.

I leave all these poems of my flaming passion for you under your door at night, so you can think about me at night, like I think about you.

Don't you read them?

Or heed them?

Or need them?

Or feed them?

Or weed them?

Oh, tweed hem!

My life is like the total perspective vortex, now: I can see how small and insignificant I am in the universe.

But it would be OK if you loved me. And if you don't it will be worse.

Curse? Oh, verse: First!

Maybe you do love me and are frightened of what people will say.

In that case be but sworn my love and we'll go and live on a planet where everyone is gay.

Prejudice? Nay!

Pink shirts? Yay!

Say hay? No, nay, of yay, there being a way. If thou be-est gay.

As I gaze upon thy splendour, I have to say that you have utterly fantastic legs.

I wonder if they are as white as thine arms.

Farms cannot compare to the whiteness of your arms.

But they look quite strong.

Hold me! Don not fold me as thou foldest me now.


	5. Yet another

Scap: LOL, sorry, the token of love was connected to Ford and his strong enough to kill love. Basically he left something that he had killed in Arthur's cabin and it made him scream. And then Zaphod was mean. And there was blood all over, which Trillian said could be washed out with vinegar. (Do not attempt this in your own home.)

Yay, Arthur is sexy!

Micro Chip: Yes. Thank you!

Rosie Cotton: Lol, that was so cool! What a great form, but didn't you know, that's the point?

Anna: What a shame you didn't leave an address, so we could talk in full, but I am 13 and a bit dumb, so, yes I do say 'yay' an awful lot. And 'man'. And 'wow'. And 'Kate Bush is all that really matters, dudes.'

But, I have to say it again. THIS IS VOGON POETRY AND SUPPOSED TO BE BAD.

Anyway, on we go!

I want my hands to crawl up your delicate skin like a spider.

Though you are scared of spiders, o woe! And loe!

If you would just lie down near me, then I would try not to touch you.

Oh woe, my heart has been cast aside. A lide!

Leaving a bloody trail of snapped affection.

It is rotting in the corner,

over there, somewhere.

But still, I am as mad for you, as a march hare!

Do you care? Flare? Oh, stare!

Stare at my body as I stare at yours!

It has hardly any flaws.

My Galaxy without you is a bit like a black hole. AGK! Now, there is no more soul.

You are not here, you are somewhere else (intelse), so I am not whole. But – what's this?

Coal? Be thou as lovable as Arthur?

No! Cruel coal! You are hard and dark and nothing like my soft, milky centred darling.

I must be loved soon, or I will die.

Then you'd be sad. I hope.

I feel bad. As sick as though I ate some soap. Oh mope.


	6. The End

Like-cairo: Hey, thanks for showing such an interest! Though you said lots in your review, I'll answer it all like this: You're completely right!

Thanks to Scap!

A/N: So, Ford's heart is rotting in a corner over there somewhere, for he hath been forsaken by his soft, milky – centred darling, Arthur Dent.

But! One night Ford goes to his cabin to find a note jammed under his door…

Dear Ford,

I'm sorry. We could have had something beautiful, but I read your poetry.

Arthur


End file.
